


Cookie Monster

by SuperCollegian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Still deciding on it, preslash?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperCollegian/pseuds/SuperCollegian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles takes a chance to swing by the loft one Saturday morning, he's met with the smell of sweet breads and fruit pies. He takes the liberty of letting himself in, basically following his nose and stomach to the source of the smells, and finds Derek in a lavender, flour covered apron, elbow deep in a giant blob of dough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookie Monster

When Stiles takes a chance to swing by the loft one Saturday morning, he's met with the smell of sweet breads and fruit pies. He takes the liberty of letting himself in, basically following his nose and stomach to the source of the smells, and finds Derek in a lavender, flour covered apron, elbow deep in a giant blob of dough.

"What do you want."

Derek's voice barely registers to Stiles, he's way too busy eyeing the lump. "Was in the neighborhood," he replied with a shrug in his voice. "I had something to tell you. Or. I think. Don't remember it now. What's that you got going there?"

Stiles just noticed the giant stack of cookie tins off to Derek's left, and the three pie crusts just waiting to be filled. Derek man handles the blob with a little more force than necessary before breaking it off into smaller chunks and rolling them out. "If you can't remember what you needed, go home."

"No can do, Fuzzy Lumpkin. You’ve bewitched me with sweet smells. Is that cookie dough? Why are you baking? Where did you get that apron? What kind of-"

Derek makes a weak, frustrated noise like he's just too worn out to be dealing with this. There's no heat in his voice, no anger, just a sadness that actually makes Stiles feel bad. "Stiles...please. Just go."

There's a moment where Stiles thinks about being clever and whip smart, but Derek is leaning over the counter looking like he might collapse face first into the dough any minute. It was a strange contrast to the usually grumpy, broody, I-will-destroy-you-all Derek. Stiles steps away from the kitchen area and nods, shuffling slowly toward the door. "Yeah. All right. If I remember, I'll come back. Maybe even knock. Let you know I'm coming..." Stiles trailed off as his back hit the door. Derek dove back into the dough, didn't even make a motion to acknowledge Stiles leaving. Not like he would have any other day, but it seemed less deliberate, more distracted.

Stiles slipped out as quietly as he could and made his way out to his jeep, already in the middle of texting Scott. 'Fun fact of the day: Sourwolf bakes'

The reply from Scott was almost immediate. 'Ur kidding...how did u find this out?'

Stiles paused for a moment. Scott probably wouldn't appreciate the fact that he just sort of mosied on over to Derek's loft in the middle of a Saturday. The dough lump made him forget. That's believable. 'Went over on official business. Got distracted by sweet, fruit smells. He's got tins filled with cookies.'

The replied message was inevitable. 'Y were u at Derek's?'

'I don't remember. Got distracted by sweet cakes.'

'I'm sure'

Stiles frowned at that one and pocketed his phone.

//

So Stiles was curious about the baked goods, blame a guy. It's not like a person can just walk up on the resident grump while he's baking and not question what was going on. And what was with Scott. What did that even mean? Stiles snorted at his computer, he had given up trying to focus on the English paper hours ago. At least he had a few days to do it, and managed to concentrate enough to finish all of his immediate homework when he got home. His dad was at the office still, drowning in paperwork as per usual, and Scott...he's not entirely sure what Scott was doing. His comment irked Stiles, so there was no reason to further exacerbate that feeling.

"Stiles."

He turned and flailed in his chair, narrowly avoiding falling and braining himself on the corner of the desk. "Oh my god, Derek, you could have knocked..."

"I did." Derek thrust a decorative, silver cookie tin towards Stiles. "Here."

"Is this a bribe?" Eyeing the cookie tin warily, Stiles reached out and took it tentatively. "They aren't poisoned are they?"

"No."

Well. Stiles looked at Derek for a second longer then back down to the cookie tin. "What kind?"

"Sugar. Cinnamon. Tiramisu," Derek listed a little uncomfortably. He shifted from foot to foot, like he wanted to leave but not quite yet. "Pistachio. Ginger..."

The soft, sweet smell of the cookies wafted from the tin as Stiles took off the top. Even if they were poisoned, Stiles may have eaten them anyway. Award goes to Derek for best presentation of poison ever.

Derek was watching him intently, waiting.  Oh. This is the part where he tries the cookies.

Stiles plucks one up, it's soft, square, and dusted with a dark brown powder. Tiramisu, he assumes. "Are you sure this isn't poison?"

Derek just turns to leave, clearly 100% done with Stiles’ BS as the moment, but Stiles, in a moment of weakness, flings out an arm for him to wait. And god damnit, he does. Putting the cookie to his nose, he sniffs gently. Best smelling poison too...poking out his tongue, he licks a little of the brown powder, then, rather inelegantly, stuffs the whole biscuit into his mouth.

Oh. Best tasting poison in the world.

Stiles doesn’t even realize that he’s closed his eyes. There’s a blush spreading across his chest and slowly climbing it’s way to take over his face. It’s the first time Stiles finds himself a little turned on by a food. When he open his eyes, Derek is gone, not a trace of him there but the sweet, wafting breeze of his cookies.

**Author's Note:**

> Yet to decide if I want more of this...your commentary would be much appreciated. Also, it's not thoroughly edited, so...sorry for any glaring typos or loud grammatical errors.


End file.
